Você procurou por: ran out (Bengali - Tamil)

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"vande maataram sujalaam suphalaam malayaja shiitalaam sasyashyaamalaam maataram || shubhrajyotsnaa pulakitayaaminiim pullakusumita drumadala shobhiniim suhaasiniim sumadhura bhaashhiniim sukhadaam varadaam maataram || koti koti kantha kalakalaninaada karaale koti koti bhujai.rdhr^itakharakaravaale abalaa keno maa eto bale bahubaladhaariniim namaami taariniim ripudalavaariniim maataram || tumi vidyaa tumi dharma tumi hr^idi tumi marma tvam hi praanaah shariire baahute tumi maa shakti hr^idaye tumi maa bhakti tomaara i pratimaa gadi mandire mandire || tvam hi durgaa dashapraharanadhaarinii kamalaa kamaladala vihaarinii vaanii vidyaadaayinii namaami tvaam namaami kamalaam amalaam atulaam sujalaam suphalaam maataram || shyaamalaam saralaam susmitaam bhuushhitaam dharaniim bharaniim maataram |" and now the english translation of the vande mataram translation by shree aurobindo mother, i bow to thee! rich with thy hurrying streams, bright with orchard gleams, cool with thy winds of delight, dark fields waving mother of might, mother free. glory of moonlight dreams, over thy branches and lordly streams, clad in thy blossoming trees, mother, giver of ease laughing low and sweet! mother i kiss thy feet, speaker sweet and low! mother, to thee i bow. who hath said thou art weak in thy lands when the sword flesh out in the seventy million hands and seventy million voices roar thy dreadful name from shore to shore? with many strengths who art mighty and stored, to thee i call mother and lord! though who savest, arise and save! to her i cry who ever her foeman drove back from plain and sea and shook herself free. thou art wisdom, thou art law, thou art heart, our soul, our breath though art love divine, the awe in our hearts that conquers death. thine the strength that nervs the arm, thine the beauty, thine the charm. every image made divine in our temples is but thine. thou art durga, lady and queen, with her hands that strike and her swords of sheen, thou art lakshmi lotus-throned, and the muse a hundred-toned, pure and perfect without peer, mother lend thine ear, rich with thy hurrying streams, bright with thy orchard gleems, dark of hue o candid-fair in thy soul, with jewelled hair and thy glorious smile divine, lovilest of all earthly lands, showering wealth from well-stored hands! mother, mother mine! mother sweet, i bow to thee, mother great and free!
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